The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-12-17
COULDN'T EXPLAIN.

Aka& " hN&tV tuCAVAtNS Huhk pN men, been impressed with the "dar- keys" iullness of sentiment, stood watching an old negro who worked at country hotel.
 "How do you dor" said the white man, lowing with a sort of tender and sympathetic politeness.
 "How does I do?" replied the old fellow.
 "Yes."
 "Wall, does bout de bcs' ken, sah."
 "I mean how is your health?"
 "Sorter slow at de present. Ain't been all right In mer health fur seb- eral days. Went de uder day whar CT frien' Q mine killed haugs an stood roun' de fire, roastin' haug melts on de hot rocks am eatin' em, l did, till da made me nck. It ain't gwine do fur CT ole man ter ack like CT boy, sah; ain't gwine ter do CT tall. Wy, wen wuz CT boy l uster go ter or haug- killin' an eat all day laung Uster chaw, did, till I couldn' hardly shet mer mouf wen opened it."
 "A simple child of nature" unused the traveller, "an instrument upon which the skilled politician may play the tune of his own interruptions i'm provisation." Then addressing the old negro the sympathetic traveller added :. "You love poetry, do you not2" "Oh, vas, sah, yas; likes anything dat's good ter eat"
 "You don't understand. Poetry is not to eat. You can drink"
 "Suthin' ter drink? Hits me now, yer does. When it comes ter suthin' ter drink, wy, my top knot stan's up ike CT roosier's. W'ar's dc bottle? Show me de bottle cf yer wants ter see me bite de naik off,"
 You still nderstaDd me, and in truth, do not zee how am to en- tighten you. Poetry-and l wish now that I hadn't mentioned it-is nothing to eat or drink"
 "Suthin' to war, den, eh? Wall, l like ter dress up ez much ez anybody Jes mix some red in CT suit O clozc an Pm dar, tell yer"
 Just keep quiet now until l ex- plain myself. Poetry Is the music of"
 Music! Now got yer-got yer dis time, sho. Music-w'y, bless yer life, chile, I'se CT fiddler rum de ole house. Ise made all desc yere folks roun' yere shake da hoofs at dances, tell yer. Pse got CT ole fiddle dat'll take de gout an rheumatiz outen CT foot in two minlts."
 "I am determined to make you un- derstand me. Poetry-and when explain it I know that you will &C., knowledge It's inhuence--is revival of feeling which you have felt be- fore, feeling brought up by certain words, whose tenderness, like the fall ing of teardrops, brings glimpses of your own soul--"
 "Look yere, Mister, rse CT peaceable man, is; an Pse been here too laung fs- e- pasecn ter ee.ne ronn' tsILin' ter me dat way. You talk ter me like l'se been stealiR suthin,' talks ter me like dat jedgc done ober wander in de cou't-h house, an wants yer ter un'er- stan dat I'se CT man dat tends ter mer own bizness. I come out we're ter seoul dis fo' an not be shn'ered, sah."
 "Poor, deluded-0
 "Who's CT 'ludedS Call me CT 'luded ergin am I'll hit yer wid dis wet rag. Go on outen yere, now, UT I'll call de boss. Come huntin' me up wen I want doin' nothin' ter you am callin' me CT 'Iuded. You's CT 'luded yerse'f, Ah you's CT blame son O CT 'Iuded, dat w'ut yer is. No, sab, no; doan stop ter say ernuder word. Oats right, move on. Huh, imperdest man I eber seed. Come down yere tryin' ter raise CT row am I lay he gifts it.